The Lost Baenre
by WriteForFun
Summary: What happened that brought the infamous Jarlaxle to power and ruling Bregan D'aerthe? This is a story about Jarlaxle's young years. This may become a Teen rating later due to some language,violence. Please R & R.
1. Chapter 1

Prologue

The world of Menzoberranzan is a world of strict rules, treachery, instinct, and death. This is the world of the young male of House Baenre. Jarlaxle Baenre was a drow born into unfavorable conditions. His mother, Matron Baenre, was the strongest figure in Menzoberranzan society, but he was not the child of his family's patron male. Jarlaxle was born to Delanil Do'Urden, a minor mage in good standing with House Baenre.

As a child, Jarlaxle learned very quickly that his society, drow society, was a matriarch society and as such, he would have little room for error for fear of enraging his female superiors. Matron Baenre saw the budding strength in Jarlaxle and offered to take him into her house, as long as he was strictly obedient to her will.

By his tenth birthday, the time for a destined profession arrived at Jarlaxle's footstep. Matron Baenre saw a great mage in Jarlaxle, but was tentative to leave him without proper militaristic training. So, the decision was made to send the young Baenre to Melee-Magthere for four years, before attending the magic school of Sorcere. This is where Jarlaxle finds himself, approaching the steps of Sorcere for the first time.

Chapter 1- Sorcere

The shuffling footsteps echoing through the halls were not unexpected to the Faceless One, the archmage in charge of Sorcere. This newest apprentice of his, Jarlaxle, seemed to have a great amount of natural talent in the arts of magic. Just as the Faceless One was pondering the significance of such raw talent, a rapping on his door shook him from his thoughts.

"Sir, I have identified the meaning of the scroll you gave me. You asked that I report as soon as I was completed." Announced an overly proud Jarlaxle.

Just as Jarlaxle finished his statement, a bolt of lightning bounded across the room from his master's fingers. Jarlaxle wore a pain-filled, incredulous expression as his robes and skin burned. The room soon filled with the stench of burning flesh.

"Did I not also tell you not to interrupt me when I was in my chambers? You are lucky that I am feeling weak at the moment from last night's experiment. I would not tolerate such insolence from you under normal conditions. I would advise that you learn to give proper respect or you _will_ pay the consequences. Now, leave me alone, I must rest before our trip tonight. I will send you a summons when Narbondel glows brightest."

"Yes, sir, I shall prepare for this night's journey. Might I ask where we are going this evening, sir?"

"You overstep your bounds again? You have much talent, but will you ever learn?" At that, an elemental appeared from the air and advanced on Jarlaxle. Jarlaxle turned, but received a glancing blow on the shoulder by the lumbering elemental's clumsy right hook. Jarlaxle ducked into a roll to avoid being struck again. The elemental chased Jarlaxle into the corridor and caught him in a numbing grasp. The wind was blown from Jarlaxle's lungs and he slowly faded into unconsciousness. When the Faceless One saw his apprentice's body go limp, he banished the elemental. Jarlaxle was left in the hallway as the Faceless One closed the door to his work chambers. "Why must one of such talent be so thickheaded? No matter, I will bend him to my will, or he will not leave this building alive."

Shuffling footsteps could be heard, bounding off of the stone corridor. Jarlaxle half opened weary eyes, trying to regain his senses. As he was regaining his senses, a heavy boot connected on the side of Jarlaxle's head.

"I said be ready when Narbondel glows brightest. Why do you continue to be so thick headed? Next time you disobey me, you will not wake up from that sleep, I assure you." The Faceless One announced nonchalantly.

"I am sorry master. I will be ready to go in--."

"You will come with me now! The night is already upon us and we must leave the city before any sentries take note of our presence." The Faceless One returned rather quickly. The Faceless One turned and headed down the hallway towards the entrance of Sorcere.

Jarlaxle dragged himself to his feet and sprinted to catch up with his master. He came upon the archmage along the shadows of a mushroom grove, peering around a corner to get a better view of the guards. Just as quickly as Jarlaxle spotted the patrolman, the guard fell to his knees, a small dart lodged in his throat.

The two drow, archmage and magus, left the city a short while later, headed for the confines of the deadly Underdark.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2-Unexpected Meeting

It had been almost two hours of marching and Jarlaxle was still unsure of his master's reason for leaving Menzoberranzan so abruptly. He had grown up as a noble of the strongest house in the drow city, he was trained in the art of sorcery, Jarlaxle was not used to walking so much. He felt a burning in his legs every time he took a step further into the Underdark.

"Master, in fear of disappointing you, I must be so bold to say that I may not be able to walk much farther." Proclaimed an obviously exhausted Jarlaxle. Jarlaxle still carried a bad limp from the previous night's events. His footsteps were filled with anguish as salty sweat rolled down his chest and ran through his burned skin.

Do not make any noise! The Faceless One responded emphatically in the complex drow hand code. His facial expression told Jarlaxle without any chance of misinterpretation that this command had to be followed. The Faceless One then pointed to the North and showed Jarlaxle an altar to Lloth in the middle of a large cavern.

Do we go to that altar master? Jarlaxle motioned doubtfully.

Just wait. Patience is a virtue that cannot be underestimated, especially to one of our calling. Signaled the archmage calmly. As he finished his message, two drow entered the cavern from either side. The two drow halted a short distance from one another. The altar began to glow with a faint black light.

"We shall see who it is that Lloth really favors today on this field of battle." Shouted one drow across the chamber to his counterpart.

"Yes, we shall. You will die by my blade and all glory will fall on house DeVir." The other drow returned in a confident tone. "House Do'Urden will fall today once my matron receives the full glory of Lloth. You will be the first to fall and Zaknafein Do'Urden, you will be able to greet your family at the gates of the abyss soon enough! Today I, Tyrethe DeVir, will bring glory to my house."

At that, the two warriors charged towards the altar. Zaknafein wielded his two adamantine swords with a natural ease, almost as if they were an extension of his arms themselves. His opponent brandished a short sword and a dirk. The combatants met at the altar in a rush. Zak lunged forward in a feinting attack. Tyrethe saw the feint for what it was and crossed his blades in a defensive position. As he did so, Zak drew back his swords and lunged low with both swords. Tyrethe waited to block until the last second, Zak's swords a mere inch away from his stomach.

Tyrethe rolled jumped onto the altar to get a better vantage point. When he looked at where Zaknafein was just a moment before, he saw nothing. Looking around, Tyrethe saw his opponent slowly levitating to his position. Tyrethe waited in anticipation of Zak's approach when he was suddenly enveloped in an orb of impenetrable darkness. Zak appeared in a frenzy from _behind_ Tyrethe and two slender blades entered the unsuspecting drow's chest. As the drow slid off of the swords, Zaknafein lifted the orb of darkness and watched the light fade from Tyrethe's eyes. What was that look in Zak's eyes, pity, sympathy? Thought a stunned Tyrethe.

As Zak bent to wipe his swords clean on his victim's piwafwi, he was suddenly faced by two unknown drow. One of the drow looked to be a man of high standing in his rich, black silk robes. The other appeared as if he had just been to the abyss. His hair was standing on end as if it was unwilling to conform to the contours of his head. His clothes were matted with blood and he walked with a noticeable limp.

"What do you want? I fought this man in a fair challenge, in the name of Lloth. I am innocent in the eyes of the council." Zaknafein shouted with a desperate look in his eye.

"Do not fear, warrior. We mean not to harm you, but simply to witness who will gain the respect of Lloth. You have shown yourself to be quite capable with the sword and would be a waste to kill you for sport." Replied the Faceless One with a smirk on his face.

How many others have heard that same thing before being killed? Thought a nervous Zak. "You are at an unfair advantage sir, for you know of me, but I am unaware of your identity." Zak responded with a slight quiver in his voice.

"That is not a matter for a mere warrior, Zaknafein Do'Urden. You wouldn't want to cause trouble for your house, would you? I have been asked by Matron Baenre herself to create a raiding party. An agent of mine informed me of your coming and I felt inclined to meet the victor. So what say you? Are you interested in punishing our evil surface brethren? Will you help us spill elven blood, or must I find someone else? That would mean ending your sorry existence first, of course."

"It seems that I have no choice in the matter. Might you and your associate introduce yourselves now? I, as you have stated, am Zaknafein Do'Urden."

"I am the archmage of Sorcere, but you will address me as the Faceless One. My companion here is my pupil, Jarlaxle Baenre. We will gather a total of ten members for this trip. Be ready to act when I summon you." As he said so, the Faceless One gave Jarlaxle a grim look to make sure he was talking to him as well.


End file.
